


2. Just in Time - The Devilsgate Saga

by Denise_Felt



Series: The Devilsgate Saga [2]
Category: Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise_Felt/pseuds/Denise_Felt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Commander Straker out of the way, the aliens try to take out SHADO HQ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Just in Time - The Devilsgate Saga

## 2\. Just in Time

  
by Denise Felt  2010

_Dedicated once more to Louise Oatridge, friend and fellow soldier in the war against the aliens. Also a nod to Dragon, who never fails to inspire._

__**Chapter 1**

****"Good morning, Commander," said Lt. Ford from his console as the new commander entered the Control room with a paper sack.

Jake grinned at him. Keith had certainly made it easier for him to adjust to HQ, even to the point of setting up an account for him at a local bakery, so that he could pick up breakfast on his way to work each morning. "Join me," he invited, gesturing to the office.

"Yes, sir." Ford got up from the console, allowing Ayshea to take over his seat, and followed Davenport into Straker's office.

The commander stopped suddenly when he saw the mountain of reports sitting on the desk. "What is that?"

Keith's eyes danced, but he kept a straight face. "Those, sir, are the daily reports from the staff."

"_All_ of the staff?"

Jake turned to him with such a look of horror that Ford found it hard to keep from grinning. "Um, Commander Straker wanted to know what was going on at HQ at all times. This was his way of staying on top of things."

Jake sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Straker, I will never forgive you for making me step into your shoes!" he said fiercely. Then he looked at Keith. "Okay. I'm not dealing with that now." His gesture indicated the enormous stack of reports on his desk. "I'm going to eat my breakfast. Have a seat."

Ford followed him to the conference table, but hesitated before sitting down. Davenport noticed and said, "What? Did you think I wouldn't share them with you? They're really good, and I owe you big time for making it possible for me to get them." He dug into the sack as he spoke and pulled out several large cinnamon rolls. "Please. Join me."

The lieutenant sat, and taking one of the rolls, bit enthusiastically into it. "Thank you, sir." He still felt ill at ease, however, expecting at any moment for Straker to enter his office and demand to know what he thought he was doing sitting down!

"They had these great looking apple tarts, too," Jake said, happily munching his roll. "I got a few to try out. If they're as delicious as they look, I'll get them too from now on. It'll add a bit of variety to my diet."

"I have a question, sir," Keith said after finishing off the roll and being offered another. "Why are you here so early? We weren't expecting you for another hour."

"Well," the commander said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I wanted to make sure I got here before the dragon that guards the gate arrives."

"The – ?" It took Ford a minute to understand. "Oh. Miss Ealand. She's not so bad really."

"You lie, Keith," Jake said, shaking his head. "She's ferocious! And I simply can't face that on an empty stomach."

The lieutenant frowned. "I suppose you could change her work schedule, so that she comes in later."

Davenport gave him a skeptical look. "Sure. Okay. _You_ do it. I promise I'll bring flowers to your funeral."

Ford chuckled. "Well, you can't just keep avoiding her for the rest of your life!"

"Why not? It sounds like the perfect solution to me."

"People will think you're terrified of your secretary!"

"Well, it's true, isn't it? I am! Besides, she isn't my secretary," the commander continued. "I don't work at the studio. So I can avoid her all I want."

Ford had no answer to that, so he ate in silence.

"Keith," Davenport said after a moment. "You've got to do something for me."

"What's that, sir?"

"Stop sirring me to death!"

The lieutenant looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry, si–! Um, Commander."

"Jake. Just Jake. Come on! How many years have we gamed online together?"

"Yes, I know. But I can't just call you Jake at HQ! You're the commander!"

"I don't see the problem."

He wouldn't, Ford realized. Because he was more laid-back than his predecessor. Straker would have torn a strip off anyone who dared address him so casually. "Commander Straker didn't encourage that kind of familiarity," he explained as diplomatically as he could.

"Oh." Jake had always found the commander to be very congenial. But perhaps the stresses of his job caused him to act different in HQ than elsewhere. Davenport had already seen that the man had worked too hard. "Well, I_ am_ encouraging it. So call me Jake."

"Yes, si– Jake."

After the rolls and tarts had been consumed, the commander sat back in the chair and sipped his tea. "I have a question for you," he said to his friend.

"Shoot."

"Why does Straker have a mini bar in his office? He's a teetotaler, isn't he?"

"Yes," Ford said. "But the bar wasn't for him. It was for Col. Freeman."

Jake's brows raised. "He put a bar in for Alec? Why?"

"To encourage him to stop by and chat, I suppose."

"Oh. Okay." Jake thought about that for a moment. "Sort of like you and I are doing over a bag of cinnamon rolls."

The lieutenant blinked in surprise at the comparison. Then he grinned. "Something like that." As he went to leave the office, he indicated the stack of reports and said, "What do you intend to do about those?"

Davenport's eyes twinkled. "I have plans for those. Get the senior officers from each department in here."

"Now? Some of them are just arriving. It's still fairly early, sir. Jake."

The commander checked his wristwatch. "Okay. Say 0700 then. Thanks, Keith."

The lieutenant grinned. "Right."

***

"Mr. Straker, madam."

The butler's displeasure couldn't have been more obvious as he ushered him into the study, but Straker found that he could not be offended. Since it was equally obvious that Dorset only had Lady Oatridge's best interests in mind when he disapproved of her taking in 'strays.'

"Thank you, Dorset," the lady said, giving Straker a warm smile and extending a hand.

He bowed over it, but did not kiss it. "Lady Oatridge, good day to you."

"And to you, sir. There is much work to be done, I'm afraid, if my accounts are to be put in order." But once the heavy study door was closed, she abandoned her pose as employer and sank onto the couch, gesturing for him to sit as well.

"Well, this is all very exciting! I feel as if I am embarked upon a great intrigue. What is our plan, sir?"

His lips quirked. "I hesitate to destroy your faith in me, Lady Oatridge, but I do not have one yet. I will need more information than I have at present in order to come up with a viable one. The only idea I have had so far would be doomed to failure."

She lifted a brow at this, but made no comment. She well knew that a strategy devised in an emotional moment was usually not a good one, and she assumed by his tone that he was referring to just such a one as that. "Would you do me the honor of calling me by my first name, Mr. Straker?" she asked tentatively.

His eyes met hers . . . and he found it difficult to look away. "My dear lady," he said, standing up and going to the window. "It would hardly be proper."

"And are you always proper, Mr. Straker?"

He swallowed. "Always."

"And I rarely am," she said with a sigh. "I find it so tedious to keep people at a strict distance. Tell me, sir. How is it possible that a man from the future has more decorum than those who live during this time?"

He turned and met her smile with a wry one of his own. "I don't really fit into my own time very well. Life can be extremely casual there. I tend to prefer the 'decorum' (as you call it) of your era. It suits me."

"But if I give you license to call me by my name, surely that is acceptable?" she asked bravely, certain that if she did not do all in her power to ensure otherwise, he would act as if yesterday on the hill had never occurred.

"Acceptable, yes. Wise? No."

"Am I such a poor candidate for a friend then? That you would be wiser not to know me better?"

He stopped himself from going to her, knowing that he had to keep his head or be completely lost. "I would dearly love to know you better," he told her huskily, the look in his blue eyes leaving her in no doubt as to his meaning. "But to do so would be wrong."

"Why? I am not bound to another, nor are you. What could be wrong in us exploring further this emotional excess that has overtaken us?"

He almost grinned at her terminology, and found it amazing that he could when he ached so unbearably. "It would be wrong, Lady Oatridge, because I cannot stay here. I must get back to my own world."

"Of course," she said sadly. "You are their leader. They will need you in order to prevail against the devils." How cruel fate was, she thought, to finally give her a taste of true passion, and then to take it beyond her reach forever! Like a governess who allowed a child to take one bite of a treat, then set it aside for someone else.

Straker sighed deeply and sat down once more. "Listen, in ordinary circumstances (if anything about this incident can be termed ordinary), I would say 'to hell with it!' and stay here with you, leaving them to their own devices. And why shouldn't I? Everything about this place, this time, calls to me. The slower pace, the quiet surroundings, the peace. And the company." He gave her a warm smile before going on.

"But the circumstances are not ordinary. SHADO will continue . . ."

"Shadow?"

"That is the name of our organization."

She smiled softly. "How poetic! A shadow; something no one notices, but which is always there beside you."

His eyes darkened, and he reached for her hand. This time he kissed it before releasing it. His voice was a trifle husky as he said, "You are a constant wonder to me, Lady Oatridge. I don't know how I shall get through a day back home without your delightful conversation." He didn't try to correct her understanding of the organization's title, but drew a deep breath and tried to focus on what he'd been saying.

"Our organization will continue without me, because it has been set up to do so. A new commander will be appointed, a man I have personally handpicked for the position. Davenport is a brilliant man and has that rare combination of vision and administrative authority so necessary to the job."

"It is indeed rare for one person to possess both," she said. "That kind of man is one who people would gladly follow, even if it led to death. Because they would know that he would not allow their death to be in vain, but would push onward until he conquered all."

He stared at her, surprised at her perception.

She read his expression accurately and smiled sadly. "Can you doubt that I know this, Mr. Straker? Did you think that I could know you so little in the short time that we've had together that I did not understand the quality of man I had under my roof?"

"I . . ." He found himself in the unusual position of being bereft of words. He had never considered before that the qualities he had looked for in his replacement had been ones he possessed himself. It made sense, now that he thought of it. He just had never done so before. Was it any surprise that he was so enthralled with this woman's company? Every moment with her was an education.

"If he is as good as you say, Mr. Straker, where does the difficulty lie?"

He was brought back to the topic at hand by her question. "Because SHADO is at a crucial place in our war with the aliens. We may have just made a breakthrough that could greatly influence the outcome of this war, saving millions of lives. So much will depend on the decisions that will be made in the next short while."

She nodded. "And you need to be there to handle those decisions personally."

"No. It doesn't have anything to do with me – at least, not like that. Davenport could handle it without difficulty. In fact, I'd be happy to leave it to him. But the situation isn't normal, Lady Oatridge. And I'm concerned about the unknown factors of the equation, because I can't predict the outcome. Or perhaps I should say that I cannot predict a _favorable_ outcome with those factors involved."

"What makes this situation so unusual?"

He sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "SHADO has been in operation for over fifteen years, and in that time has only had one commander. Me. Now I'm gone, in an incident that leaves my staff with no definitive answers as to what happened to me. Anyone coming into a situation like that will find things harder to deal with than normal, because the staff will resent their presence. It will seem disloyal to follow someone new when they aren't even certain that their commander is dead. Now, I know Jake. And I'm certain he'll make sure to treat me as though I _am_ dead, because that should minimize the resentment."

"It would seem to be the wisest course."

"Yes."

"Then why does that not alleviate your worry?" she asked softly.

Straker sighed once more. "Because of the command team. They won't accept my death easily, and their resentment is bound to be tenfold what the others feel, especially when they see how he's acting about it. They won't understand that it's for the best. SHADO isn't – and can't be – about one man. But I'm afraid that their grief and anger will make them mutinous toward their new leader. And give the aliens an advantage we cannot afford during this vulnerable transition."

He was quiet a moment, then added, "That's why I have to return. To make sure that the correct decisions get made – not by the commanding officer, but by his senior staff."

　  
**Chapter 2**

****Virginia was certain that the man would drive her to drink. It wasn't enough that he looked more like a refugee from a rock concert than a commanding officer of the most elite military force on the planet. Of course not! The man was also preposterous in his attitude with the entire staff. He had absolutely nothing in common with Commander Straker, and she simply couldn't believe that some major mistake hadn't been made in appointing him as their new commander.

Now he wanted daily briefings with the command team. What the hell for? They were all working long enough hours as it was, trying to both prepare for the next alien assault and find out where the commander was. Didn't they have enough to do already?

She muttered under her breath all the way down to HQ, and everyone else in the elevator moved aside to give her space. Col. Lake on a rampage was not something anyone wanted to be too close to. A person could end up hospitalized.

She stormed into the Control room, her gray eyes diamond hard as she looked around for a likely target.

Jake looked up from where he stood at radar and nearly grinned. She did not look at all happy to be here. "Good morning, Col. Lake," he said cheerfully.

She pressed her lips tightly together to keep a sharp retort inside. This was her commanding officer, after all. Even if he was an idiot. "Sir. I understand that you've called a meeting?"

"Yes, Colonel," he said blithely, completely ignoring her frosty tone. "We were just waiting for you. Won't you join us in the office?"

She followed him without a word into Straker's office and took a seat at the full conference table. So the meeting was for _all _senior staff, not just the command team. Great. Just great. She'd been home from the night shift only thirty minutes when she'd gotten the order to return for the meeting. She was tired, damn it, and in no mood for a staff meeting. As Davenport took his seat at the head of the table, she barely kept herself from glaring at him.

Jake said, "I'd like to thank Col. Lake for her willingness to come back in for this briefing. I realize that you'll be losing some sleep, Colonel, but the alternative was to have you left outside the loop of things here at HQ, and I didn't want that. There are a few things that need to change at HQ in order for each shift to run efficiently. Now, I'm not saying that the way Commander Straker did things was wrong or inefficient. I'm just saying that my way has always worked well for me, so I plan to implement it here.

"The first change needed deals with daily reports. As it stands now, each member of your staff fills out a report at the end of their shift, then turns it over to you. You read it, then pass it on to the commanding officer of the shift, who also reads it. If that person is not the commander himself, they then pass that report on to him, so that he can read it when he comes on shift. This flow of information worked well for Commander Straker, but it won't work well for me.

"I prefer to meet with department heads every day to discuss what's been going on during their shifts. I feel that this type of open discussion allows for two great advantages. One: every department is made aware of areas that might need extra attention, therefore eliminating a lot of undue stress being placed on any one area when they aren't capable of handling it. And two: I've always felt that efficiency is a group effort, and therefore the group should all have a voice in making it work. I welcome your suggestions, even if I don't use them, because you never know. I might someday realize that they were genius and put them into effect.

"Now here's how we're going to set it up. Every morning at 0630, I will meet with all the department heads before they head off shift. Which will require each of you to have already read and made notes on the reports from your staff before that time, so that you're ready for the meeting with any problems that have cropped up. The night shift commander will also have a briefing at 1830, before the day shift people leave. Any concerns that crop up that they can't handle will be discussed with me during our daily command team briefing at 0730. Or immediately if the situation calls for me to be contacted during the night. Any questions?"

Hawthorne, head of Technical Services, spoke. "I don't know why we have to change anything. We've always done our reports this way, and it worked just fine. Why fix something that isn't broke?"

"I understand what you're saying, Lieutenant," Davenport said patiently. "But I hope I'm not the only one who realizes that just because it's been done that way for fifteen years, it doesn't need some adjustment. Change is the single most difficult aspect of life, people, but it's necessary for any organization if it hopes to grow and improve. And when the head of an organization changes, it's vital for the rest of the staff to be flexible and adapt to any changes needed to keep the work flow heading in a positive direction. I am aware that your instinctive reaction would be to keep everything the same as Commander Straker had it – in honor of his memory. I commend your loyalty, but it's misplaced. Commander Straker would want you to carry on without any break in your work, adjusting as needed to the new leader in order to keep the aliens from gaining any advantage over Earth. We can't show a fragmented front to the enemy. We have to stand united, refusing to be the weak link that breaks our chain of defense. Can I count on all of you for that?"

There were murmurs of assent throughout the room. Even Ginny, as irritated as she was at him, found herself moved by his words. She was constantly surprised by him, because he didn't at all look like the highly intelligent man that he revealed himself to be when he spoke. She wished she could get a handle on him, so that he didn't keep confusing her.

"Now," Commander Davenport continued quietly. "The second order of business is the memorial service we will be having in HQ's main auditorium for Commander Straker on Thursday. I'm open to any suggestions regarding anything you'd like to have included in the ceremony. Please see me at your own leisure for any discussion on that topic, but make sure it's before this afternoon. That will be all. Oh, and by the way. Please pick up your staff reports from my desk on your way out. Thanks."

***

"When do you plan to leave?" she asked Straker at luncheon.

"It isn't that simple, my Lady. Of just as much importance as my getting back to help things run smoothly at SHADO is your situation here at Devilsgate. These attacks cannot be allowed to continue. I cannot even consider going back until we have found a way to stop these incursions for good."

"Thank you."

He smiled at her relieved tone. "I would be the veriest cur to leave you in these straits. Surely you think more of me than that?"

She blushed. "You must be aware of how I see you, Mr. Straker. But your situation in the future sounds more dire than what we face here. I would understand your need to return there without delay."

He shook his head at her, a slight smile on his face. "I hope I may someday learn what you think of me, Lady Oatridge. But in this instance, you are wrong. Your situation here is much worse than it appears on the surface. Because the aliens are coming here from the future, not from your own time period. It stands to reason. If they could come here in force during this era, they would, and there is nothing that could be done to stop them from taking over. So they must be constrained by the difficulties of time travel into only sending lone ships one at a time. However, as the situation stands, even if we managed to defeat them back at SHADO Headquarters, they would still be able to survive by coming here to this time. So it's of major importance for us to stop them here and now, so they have no other recourse to harass us when we stop them there and then."

"I did not realize," she said, looking pale. "When you told me you were from the future, I did not equate that in any way with the devils. Or 'aliens'(as you call them.) Are they from a distant country?"

He met her inquiring gaze . . . and found himself incapable of explaining exactly what his term meant. He had no desire to magnify her nightmares further by a truth that would surely shake her to her foundation. "Er, yes," he said finally, taking a sip of his coffee. "You could say that."

***

"Well, I see you managed to get your desk cleared off," she said tartly once the department heads had gone.

Jake grinned at her. "Not a bad trick, was it?" he said, completely unrepentant.

"Is that all it was?" she asked sharply as she sat in front of the desk, feeling suddenly like a fool for having believed his heartfelt speech.

He looked at her in surprise, then sat in the leather chair behind the desk with a sigh. "No, Col. Lake. I meant every word I said in that meeting. I'm only saying that it's a nice side benefit to have a cleared desk at the end of it." He shrugged. "I meant no offense to you."

"For God's sake, Ginny," Alec said in an undertone.

She flushed. "I'm sorry, sir. It's been a long night."

"Understandable, Colonel." Jake's dark eyes searched her face for a moment, then he said solicitously, "We could postpone this briefing until the beginning of your shift this evening, if that would help."

His kind tone made her want to cry, which infuriated her so much that she snapped at him. "Stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop acting like one," he said sternly, not appreciating having the hand he'd extended to her in friendship being bit off.

She stood up in a haze of fury, knowing full well that she was out of line and uncaring about it as she stormed to the office door. Once there, however, she stopped and put her head in her hands.

Jake took his finger off the door lock button on his desk and sat back, allowing her time to collect herself.

After a moment, she came back to her chair and sat down. Her voice was subdued when she said, "Please forgive me, Commander, for my unwarranted outburst. I am tired, but that's not why I lost my temper." She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "It was the mention of the memorial service that upset me. It makes it sound so _permanent _somehow. As though there's no hope of ever getting him back."

Jake sighed. He wondered if Straker's ghost would always stand between them. "There is hope, Colonel," he said quietly. "We just have to trust him; that he'll let us know where he's at."

Alec glanced up. "But . . . he could be anywhere in time, from what you said. Past, present, future. How would we know where to begin to look?"

Jake sat back in his chair. "Well, think about it, Alec. The aliens wouldn't have sent him anywhere in the present, because he's proven to them that he can get out of that one. And it would be foolish of them to send him to the future, where we might have the technology to undo whatever it was that they did to him. Now there are a few scenarios in the near future that might work for their purposes, but I'm going with the odds, and they say it's their best bet to send him to the past. And far enough back so that he'll never see SHADO in his lifetime."

Ginny sat forward. "So we just have to start looking."

"Yeah."

Bewildered, Col. Freeman asked, "Where?"

"Old photos of national and international events, Alec," Virginia said earnestly. "Things he'd remember and go to so that we could find him in the pictures that were taken at the time."

"Sort of like 'Where's Waldo?'" Jake said with a grin.

Alec stifled a chuckle. "Damn it, Jake! It's not funny."

"Sorry." The commander didn't look contrite though. "There's also time periods even older than that, where people were immortalized through portraits instead of photos. We just need to search for him. Eventually we're bound to find him." He looked at the two of them. "And we will probably need more help than we have at present. Any ideas who else we could trust for this?"

"We could send for Paul or John," Freeman said.

But Jake shook his head. "No, Alec. I need Col. Grey to stay with the alien ship. I'm depending on him to get the answers that we need there." He ran a hand through his dark hair, making it even more tousled than before. "And I've met Col. Foster before. I didn't even need Straker's warning to me that he's a bit of a hothead. But I'm willing to take your word on it if you think he can be trusted to keep his mouth shut about what we're doing."

He looked around at them, but Ginny's eyes met Alec's and they both remained silent. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Anyone else?"

"Yes," Virginia said. "I can think of a few key people who are discreet. Keith Ford, for one. And Capt. Carlin on Skydiver 1."

Jake grinned at her. "Yeah. Keith can be trusted. And he's an amazing researcher, so that will be a plus. I don't know how hard it will be for Peter to do research onboard Skydiver, but I'll put the plan to him and see what kinds of ideas he has about it. Thank you, Colonel."

"Commander, make I ask a favor?" Ginny said, meeting his eyes.

"Okay."

"Could you . . . call me by my first name?"

He blinked. Was this her way of apologizing for her outburst earlier? Well, hell. His mama didn't raise any fools. "Certainly . . . Virginia."

"Thank you," she said, refusing to look Alec's way. He'd only think that she was putting moves on their new commander when it couldn't be further from the truth. She just couldn't bear to be held at arm's length by another commander for the next however-long he was in charge. She'd had her fill of it with Commander Straker.

"It might also be a good idea to search for books written by a Straker," she said. "He might have tried to tell us where he was that way. Although there could be thousands of those to go through."

Jake nodded. "I'll set Keith onto that. He'll weed through them in no time. You two be checking out old art books, photo books on major world events, etc. Sooner or later, we're bound to stumble onto him."

"But, Jake. I don't understand," Freeman said. "What good will it do us to find him? We don't have any way to bring him home."

"Alec," Ginny said, laying a hand on his. "It will be enough to know that he's alive. That he didn't die. Don't you think?"

"Actually," Jake said. "Although it's true that _we_ don't have the technology necessary to bring the commander home, we do know someone who does."

Ginny snorted. "Yeah. Like they're going to send him back once he's learned his lesson."

Jake chuckled, enjoying her waspish wit. "I didn't mean that, Virginia. I simply meant that for the first time, we have a piece of their technology to study for ourselves."

Ginny gasped, and Alec came out of his chair. "The alien ship? You think they might have something onboard that ship that could bring Ed back?"

Jake shrugged. "Sure. Sorry. I figured that you had already thought of it, or I'd have mentioned it sooner."

"Then why have the memorial service?" Col. Freeman asked. "If we can get him back?"

Ginny met the commander's eyes and said, "Because it could take years, Alec, before we're able to figure out how to do it. If we even find something in the first place. And SHADO has to go on in the meantime."

"Well said," Jake told her with a soft smile.

She found herself turning pink and shook it off. "My only hope is that we find out that he was alright wherever he ended up. That he wasn't exposed to plague or something awful like that."

"Rampaging dinosaurs," Jake offered helpfully.

Her lips quirked, but she managed to keep the grin off her face.

Alec chuckled. "Yeah, I can see Ed telling off a tyrannosaurus. Can't you, Ginny?"

She couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

　  
**Chapter 3**

****After luncheon, they rode down the dirt track that passed for a road, heading around the hill that encompassed Devil's Pond and led eventually to the village of Harlington. They gave their horses their head, allowing them to race down the track at their own speed. They finally slowed and moved to the side of the road as a large lumbering vehicle came around the bend toward them, drawn by four tired horses.

Straker was struck by the sight. It was a mail coach, that much was obvious even at a distance by its bulky construction and the scarlet and gold livery that both the driver and guard wore. It was a vision so firmly rooted in its generation that he was amazed at first at his own astonishment. It took him a moment or two before he realized how often he tended to forget while in Lady Oatridge's company that he wasn't in his own time. It might be attributed to the fact that she knew he was from the future, and therefore he could relax in her presence. But he knew it was more than that. She was a woman ahead of her time herself, independent and resourceful. As well as very kind. He had a sudden chill at the thought of how he'd have fared if he had not met her that first day.

After the coach passed, she rode up beside him and laid a gloved hand over his on the pommel. "You looked shocked, Mr. Straker," she said playfully. "Has the mail changed so much since this time?"

He met her lovely dark green eyes . . . and forced himself to match her light tone. "Actually, yes. We use horseless carriages in my time, as well as airplanes for things sent from far away."

She raised a brow at him. "Horseless? How is that possible?"

He grinned. "The vehicles run on small motors that turn the wheels."

They rode along in silence for a while, and he could almost watch her mind pondering what he'd told her by the expressions on her face.

Finally she said, "That is ingenious. And what are heir-plains? They sound bizarre."

"Vehicles that fly," he told her, a twinkle at the back of his eyes.

"Now you are teasing me!"

"I assure you, I am quite serious."

She met his eyes searchingly. "Truly? Oh, no! You cannot mean it. How could that be?"

"Don't worry about it," he told her. "It won't be for some time yet. But they certainly help to speed up mail delivery."

Her eyes lit up. "How fast?"

"Well, you can get things overnight from halfway around the world in most places."

She shook her head, not doubting his words, but merely amazed by them. "You know, Mr. Straker. You've been far too reticent about your era. It really does sound fantastical."

He smiled warmly at her. "In some ways, it is, Lady Oatridge."

"Tell me more," she pleaded.

"Well, some people don't bother to mail their letters, but send them instantly to each other through the use of a small box called a computer."

"Instantly? Is the box magic?"

He grinned. "It would probably seem like magic to you, even if I was able to describe it to you."

They left the road at that point and headed up the hill. As they reached the treeline near the top, they dismounted and tied their horses to a nearby shrub.

"The horses fear going any closer to the pond," she told him as they began walking through the underbrush.

He couldn't help feeling that the horses were smarter than they were. But according to her, checking the appearance of the pond was a daily chore. And he'd be damned if he'd let her do it alone.

As they went further into the trees, he could feel the eeriness of their surroundings, as though they had entered a darker dimension. There were no more sounds of birds or any small animals rustling in the leaves underfoot. He glanced at her and saw from her widened eyes that she was just as unnerved as he was. But her mouth was set, and he knew she would not consider turning back before they had done what they came here to do.

When they reached the clearing, she led him to a small shrub, and they crouched behind it, surveying the water. As before, it was black and still even in the sunlight. The trees that were reflected in its dark mirrored surface looked warped and twisted, not at all like the originals that surrounded the clearing. Straker was fairly certain that an alien ship lay hidden beneath its surface. But what he could possibly do to destroy it without any weaponry was beyond him. He would have to do some research on the guns of this time, and perhaps it would also help if he could get into contact with someone in the military. If he had access to even a light cannon, he might have a chance against them.

"It looks still," she said softly.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I think we know better."

She sighed. "It's always possible that they didn't stay this time. Perhaps they've already left."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked her quietly. "Or do you only _want_ to?"

She met his serious blue eyes . . . and sighed again. "It would be so nice, wouldn't it?" She stood up, heading backing toward where they'd left the horses. "But the woods don't feel right, and that's a sure sign that devils are present. Only when they are gone does the forest seem even remotely friendly."

"I'm surprised that people don't shun it altogether."

"Some do. But the path through the woods is quite a shortcut compared to the road. And when the berries are in season, even the children will venture here on sunny days."

"Children? Good God!"

She did not look at him as she untied Maximus from his bush. "I know. But it is difficult to make a child understand that their life may depend on their staying away from here. Especially when there are berries tempting them to taste."

Straker did not mount Agrippa, but came over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It cannot have been easy for you dealing with the deaths of the villagers all these years."

She met his gaze, her eyes full of unshed tears. "I'm alright," she said, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. "As you say, it is no easy task to protect them all. There is so little that can be done if they don't . . . heed what they're told."

He drew her closer, pressing her cheek against his chest. They stood there for several minutes while she wept almost soundlessly into his jacket. He didn't try to tell her that everything would be fine. He knew he couldn't guarantee that. Instead, he merely allowed her to lean on someone else for a while. Someone who also understood the difficulties of trying to protect so many.

***

"Red alert! Red alert!"

Jake came out of the office at SID's announcement and said to the lieutenant at radar, "Okay, Keith. What is it?"

"Three UFOs, Commander."

"Any trajectories yet?"

"Yes, sir. Southern England. They're heading right for us."

Jake's brow lifted. "_All _of them?"

"Apparently."

"Maybe they think we're incapacitated here," Davenport said, running a hand over the stubble on his chin as he watched the blips on radar. "Completely at a loss now that they've taken out Commander Straker. Maybe they think we'll be an easy target."

Keith grinned fiercely at him. "Maybe they'd be wrong."

Jake's own grin flashed in response, quick and lethal. "Maybe you're right. Get me Moonbase."

Lt. Barry came onscreen. "Good evening, Commander Davenport. We have all three UFOs on positive track."

"That's good news, Lieutenant. Launch interceptors."

"Yes, sir." She turned away from the screen to order the interceptor launch, then turned back to confirm. "Interceptors have been launched, sir."

Minutes later, she came back onscreen to relay the results of the battle. "Commander, we destroyed two of the UFOs, but one was able to get through our defenses."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That was good work. Please tell the pilots, won't you?"

"Yes, sir. Commander, the pilots reported that the two UFOs that were hit suffered massive explosions, much larger than normal."

"Really? Now that's interesting. Thanks for advising us, Moonbase. By the way, where is Col. Foster?"

She blinked in surprise before saying, "Sir? Col. Foster left with the lunar flight at noon. He said you'd asked to see him at HQ."

"Oh, did he?" Jake asked drily.

Nina paled, looking upset. "I'm so sorry, sir."

He shook his head. "Not your fault, Lieutenant. No one's blaming _you_."

She sighed. "Yes, sir."

***

"I wish you would at least stay to dinner."

He leapt into the saddle, but glanced down at her where she stood in the side yard. "Lady Oatridge, I am indebted to you for your kindness. But if I stayed to dinner, it would then be too dark for me to leave for the inn."

"Of a surety, the food they serve there cannot be as wholesome as what Mrs. Meddows cooks."

"I will be fine," he assured her. "Please don't worry about me. And I have your account books with me to look over this evening, so I won't be bored without your company. We shall see if I can help you put them into order."

"Oh, Mr. Straker! I wish you wouldn't bother." She seemed almost embarrassed. "Truly, there is no need."

"Then how else will I earn my wage, dear lady?" he asked seriously.

She met his eyes . . . and admitted defeat. "Very well, sir. Since you insist. If I really needed a steward, I would ask old Jessup to refer one of his nephews to me. But we seem to do alright without one."

"Well, madam. As your new secretary, I shall endeavor to ensure that you do much better than alright with your accounts. Good night."

"Good night, sir," she said with a sigh as he rode off toward the village. He sat his horse like a nobleman, straight and tall in the saddle, and she sighed once more as his shadowed silhouette headed down the hill. It was nearly dark, and he was long gone before she stopped staring after him and went into the manor to eat her solitary dinner.

***

"Skydiver 5 is the closest to us at the moment, patrolling in the North Sea, aren't they?"

Keith nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Get me the captain. Waterman, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ford got through to Skydiver 5, then said, "Waterman for you, sir."

Jake took the microphone. "Capt. Waterman, this is Commander Davenport. We have a UFO heading toward HQ, bearing UX104. How soon can you be airborne?"

Waterman answered, "In thirty seconds, sir."

"Okay," the commander said. "Let's do it then!"

***

Once he was in the air, Lew radioed HQ. "Sky 5 airborne, Commander. I'll be overhead momentarily."

"Good job, Captain," replied Davenport. "A word of caution. This UFO will be packing some heavy artillery. Keep a safe distance when firing."

Lew's derisive snort came over the mike. "They think they're going to take out HQ? They've got another think coming!"

"That's the spirit, Captain!" grinned Jake.

A moment later, he radioed again. "I have the UFO on positive track. Am heading lower to intercept."

And again moments later. "Detonation positive. UFO destroyed. You were right, Commander. It was loaded. There's nothing left of it."

"Excellent work, Captain," Jake replied. "Head on in."

"Thank you, sir. Sky 5, out."

The commander turned to Keith and asked in an undervoice, "When does the lunar flight get in?"

Ford checked. "It's landing now, sir."

"Okay." Jake thought for a moment, then said, "Have MPs waiting to escort Col. Foster to detention once they disembark."

"_Sir?_" Keith asked in shock.

Although Jake's mouth was grim, his dark eyes twinkled madly as he said, "Is there a problem with that order, Lieutenant?"

Ford shut his mouth and turned to relay the message to the airfield. "No, sir."

***

After Straker blew out his candle, he climbed into the lumpy bed and tried to find a comfortable spot. His employer had been so generous with her wages that he was now the possessor of a fairly soft nightshirt and cap. The cap had been included along with the nightshirt, so he hung it at the end of his bed, since he had no intention of ever wearing it. He also owned a new wooden hairbrush and comb set, which he wished he could bring back home with him whenever he returned. They were of a simple design that nonetheless was skillfully wrought, and he enjoyed the feel of them in his hands. And the bristles of the brush were soft enough not to tear at the delicate hair extensions as they smoothed them.

The village tailor had opened an account for him on his word that he had employment at the manor, and had promised that he would have a new coat for him within two days. Straker was rather pleased about that, because his only jacket was getting sadly crumpled from being worn so much. How he missed Thomas' magic touch in getting the wrinkles out of it! The help here at the inn simply couldn't compare in their efforts to assist him. But he wouldn't complain. At least he had a roof over his head.

As he glanced out the window into the deep blackness only a night without any electricity could offer, he was well aware that his life depended on having the safety of that roof. And he dearly hoped as he finally closed his eyes that the aliens wouldn't find any stragglers on the road tonight.

　  
**Chapter 4**

****At breakfast the next morning, Jake said, "I'd like to improve the defenses around HQ."

Keith swallowed his bite of apple tart before answering. "We already have mobiles stationed around the perimeter and rocket launchers in key spots for rooftop access."

"Yeah, but there was something about that attack yesterday that bugs me."

The lieutenant shrugged. "We knew they'd try to take HQ out once the commander was gone. Surely you were expecting that?"

Jake nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "Oh, yeah. But it was more than that. Sending in those heavy duty ships like that. It seemed almost . . . desperate somehow."

Keith blinked. "That's what Commander Straker said."

"What?"

"That they were acting desperate."

Davenport set his cup aside. "When? Keith? When did he say they were acting desperate?"

Ford tried to remember. "Last week, I think. After an attack. He said that the aliens must be getting desperate, and he wanted to double the number of drills we ran."

"I wonder why."

"I'm sorry, Jake. I don't know. Col. Freeman might."

"Yeah," the commander said with a sigh. How he wished Straker had been the kind of leader who kept a personal log! "I'll ask him. Thanks, Keith."

***

"It's a good thing I'm here!"

She blinked in surprise at his forceful words, then sat back down on the couch with a small smile. "Good morning, sir. I take it you found errors in my accounting."

Straker laid the heavy volume down on the desk with a thump. "You could say that." Then he noticed her patient smile. "Oh. I'm sorry. Good morning, Lady Oatridge."

She waved a hand, dismissing any need for apology. "It's all right, Mr. Straker. I must say that it's . . . interesting to see you drop the formality. Even if only for a moment."

His lips twitched at her playful tone. He came over to the couch and bowed over her hand before sitting across from her. "I meant no disrespect. But I must admit that I wasn't expecting your books to be quite so . . ."

"Disordered? Confused? Muddled? Jumbled? Untidy?"

"Yes," he said in exasperation. "All of those – and more! Really, Lady Oatridge. You're an extremely intelligent woman, with a mind that is more discerning and flexible than the majority of your generation. How is it that you can't tally an account?"

She shrugged, blushing slightly. "I don't know how it is, Mr. Straker. But whenever I see a column of numbers, my brain takes a picnic."

He sighed. "You really do need a steward, madam."

She smiled at him. "Well, then. Perhaps you can speak to Jessup and interview some for me. I'm certain that whoever you choose will be just what I need."

He looked at her sternly, but she met his gaze unflinchingly, her dark eyes lit with humor. Finally he said, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," she said meekly.

"You are aware, I suppose, that you pay an inordinate amount for the hay for your horses? The going rate is much lower. I would think your head groom would have told you this before you struck a deal."

"Oh, I know I pay too much, Mr. Straker. It's not a problem."

His lips tightened. "Madam, it is most definitely a problem when you allow yourself to be bled by unscrupulous tradesmen. This is why you need a steward. He would make certain that you were dealt with fairly in all your transactions."

"Yes, sir," she said. "But I don't think you quite understand the situation."

Straker frowned at her. "What situation?"

"Mr. Danvers is not unscrupulous. He is merely proud. That is why I overpay him for the hay."

He was stunned. "You mean, you _know_ you're being bled?"

She shook her head. "I'm not, sir. Truly. You see, Mr. Danvers' daughter is sickly and requires regular treatments from Dr. Woodrow in Harlington. All that traveling back and forth takes away the hours when he could be baling hay for sale, so his family was suffering as a consequence. I spoke to his wife, but she assured me that he would refuse any offer of assistance from the manor. So I . . . found another way to help them out of their difficulties. A way that he would accept."

He stared at her for a long moment in utter amazement. "I see," he said eventually. "I suppose these other places where you are overpaying for services have similar reasons?"

She shrugged. "It is not a simple matter being responsible for the welfare of so many, Mr. Straker. Especially when they are used to taking care of themselves. Sometimes my job is made easier by a family that understands that charity from their landlord does not constitute a debt that needs repaid. But for the most part, I have to resort to more obscure means of helping out. I know other landowners do things differently, but I have never seen any reason to take away a man's pride when it's all he has left."

"You humble me, madam."

"Oh, no! Surely not!" She blushed furiously. "Really, you mustn't, Mr. Straker! I almost prefer you to rage at me!"

"Then I'll say no more about it," he said quietly. "Has there been any news today?"

She met his eyes fleetingly. "Yes. Norton, one of our tenants, was out hunting early this morning and saw a glow from the hill. He said upon closer inspection, he could tell that it was coming from the pond. So the devils are still there. We haven't heard any reports of missing people so far today, but then we wouldn't if they were from Harlington or further out."

Straker sighed. He hated feeling so helpless, so entirely without any course of action against them. Then he had a thought. "Where is the closest regiment stationed?"

"At Longford," she answered, unsure why he was asking.

"Do they have munitions there?"

"I have no idea. I would assume so." She sat forward and said earnestly, "Mr. Straker, we cannot apply to the military for help against the devils. Believe me when I say that many have tried over the years to enlist their aid. But without success. The military considers us nothing more than superstitious fools here, and practically Gothic!"

He nearly winced as he recalled his own scornful attitude that first night. "Well, they'd have to listen to us if we showed them one of the aliens, wouldn't they?"

"How could we possibly do that?" she asked. "They are far too ferocious. We could never get close enough to capture one."

"Hmmm." The commander sat back against the cushions. "Let me think on that a while, Lady Oatridge. If we could just once convince the regiment that there was a real threat here, we might be able to get them to destroy their ships as soon as they arrive. This area would become a lot safer overnight."

"That sounds truly wonderful, Mr. Straker. Can it be done?"

"I'm not certain. Give me some time to consider our options."

She smiled at him. "All the time you need, sir."

***

"We've had a lot of personal requests for the memorial. If it's not too much for you, I'd like your help with that, Virginia."

She shook her head. "No, sir. It's not too much for me. I would be honored to organize that part of it for you."

Jake raised a brow. "Then I can leave it in your hands? Completely? When I say there are lots, I really do mean _lots._"

Her smile bloomed. "It's not a problem. It will be a pleasure to do this one last thing for him."

He gestured to the untidy stack of papers he had placed on the corner seat. "They're all yours."

Ginny got up and went to the stack, carefully picking it up so that none of the smaller notes fell out. "Shall I get on that right away, sir?"

Jake opened the office door for her. "I appreciate it, Virginia. More than I can say."

She grinned, hearing the relief in his voice. He was going to owe her big for this. And she would make damned sure that she collected. She smiled all the way to her office.

Once she was gone, Jake pushed the button to close the door. Then he looked at Freeman. The colonel had lost weight, and lines seemed to have scored themselves deeply into his face as if carved by an incautious sculptor. For Jake, the worst part was seeing those laughing brown eyes dulled with grief. Col. Freeman was not dealing well with his loss.

"We'll find him, Alec. I promise you that. We won't stop looking."

The colonel ran a weary hand over his face. "I know that, Jake. I'm just a little tired of looking through old photos. I've even been seeing them in my sleep. But the problem is: in my dreams, Ed's always in one of them, and I spend the whole dream trying to find the one again where I saw him."

Davenport got up after a moment, saying, "Want some tea?"

"No, thanks. Never touch it."

Jake glanced at the mini bar as he poured himself a cup. "Something stronger then?"

"No. I'm good," Freeman said.

The commander took a sip as he sat down once more. "You haven't used the bar at all since I've been here, Alec. I hope you know that you're welcome to anytime."

Freeman looked up at him. "I appreciate it, Jake. Really. But I can't. It would be far too easy to just drown myself in it, and that won't help anything."

Jake could feel his pain as if it were tangibly there in the room with them. And maybe it was. "Alec, if I could trade places with him, right now, don't you think I would?"

The colonel met his eyes, startled by the intensity of his voice. And he saw Davenport's own grief staring back at him. It almost undid him. He looked away, taking a deep breath.

"I don't mind you sitting in his chair, Jake. I really don't. Ed chose well for his successor. And I have to tell you, I'm so glad he didn't expect me to do it. Because I'd have tried. And I'd have failed. And that would have been too much to take. It's just that every time I come into this office, I expect to see him sitting there, reading his damned reports. And he's not. And he may never be again.

"I'd be alright. I'm sure I would. If it didn't hit me square in the chest every damn time."

Jake sat back in the chair, forcing himself to relax. "You've known Commander Straker for years, haven't you? Longer than any of us."

"Yeah. We were stationed together in the Air Force. I did my best to corrupt him, but he'd just smile that sweet smile of his and go back to reading technical manuals or studying the latest scientific journals. He never was one to play much."

Jake chuckled, imagining that younger Straker earnestly striving to know more. "He counted on you. Considered you his right arm. He told me once that command was the hardest thing in the world to do, and the only thing that kept him going some days was knowing that you'd come in and tease him about something or other and make him remember why all that hard work was necessary. Why we were even bothering to fight this unwinnable war. I think he needed you there to help him loosen up occasionally – and remember to play."

Tears streamed down Alec's face, and he brushed them aside impatiently. "I took him for granted. It's stupid, but I did. I knew how hard his job was; that he'd always be a target. But I pushed that away. Didn't want to think about it. It couldn't happen to Ed. Not him. I relied on him, too, Jake. To always be here. And I didn't tell him often enough how much it meant that he was. Until suddenly he wasn't – and it was too late to say anything at all."

Davenport said, "I think you should speak at the memorial, Alec. You knew him so well. You could tell us about his zeal when SHADO was first started; how he built HQ on nothing but wires and willpower."

Freeman grinned through his tears. "He did, too. No, Jake. I can't speak. It wouldn't come out right. Besides, it's better coming from you. You're in the hot seat now. You're the target."

Jake gave him a cocky grin. "Maybe someday you'll take me for granted too, Alec. Then I'll know that I really belong."

"You're a good man," the colonel said gruffly, his heart lightening in spite of himself. "Trust Ed to know how to pick 'em."

"Say, Alec. Was the commander worried about anything those last few days before his disappearance?"

"Like what?"

Jake shrugged. "Concerning the aliens. He'd upped the drills, for one thing."

"Yeah. That was because of Lars."

"What do you – oh. Because of what the aliens had done to him."

"Yeah."

"He wasn't bothered by the number of attacks that we'd been having recently?"

"Oh, yeah." Alec sat up in his chair. "He said something about that the day he vanished. About how the aliens must be getting desperate to be coming practically nonstop like that. He said that if we could prove that they needed the iridium to fuel their ships, it could mean that their supply had been depleted and they were frantic to get more."

"Okay. Well, they _do_ use iridium. He was right about that. I hadn't thought that their supply might be low. That puts a new twist on things, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but we've got all the iridium deposits covered now, don't we?"

"We do," Jake said with satisfaction. "They'll have a hell of a time getting to any of them."

"So this could be the end?" Alec asked in astonishment. "The end of the war?"

"I don't know. Probably not the_ end_ end, Alec. But maybe the beginning of the end."

"Well, that just sucks!"

Davenport looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"That Ed wasn't here to see it to the end, of course! All these years, all that work – and he didn't get to see it to the finish."

"Don't worry, Alec," Jake said with a small smile. "The credit will be all his. I'm just the relief pitcher, closing out the game for the pro." He got up from his chair and went to the door. "There's a few things I need to see to away from HQ. Will you stay for a bit and keep a watch while I'm gone?"

"Sure. No problem."

"Thanks." Jake's infectious grin flashed as he left the office.

Col. Freeman closed the door once he was gone, but remained in his seat. Davenport had really changed very little in the office, and without his dynamic presence, it almost seemed like Ed's office again. Almost.

Eventually, he got up from his chair and turned the mural back on. When he sat back down, he smiled.

***

When she entered the study after overseeing the cleaning of the kitchen pantry, she found him deep in the account book. She paused in the doorway of the study a moment to watch him. He was completely immersed in his task and unaware of his surroundings. She thought how right he looked there, seeing to the needs of the estate as though he were the lord of the manor himself. And oh! – she wished he was!

Perhaps he'd taken many lovers over the years, and passion was easy for him. But she had never felt anything remotely like passion with Geoffrey. Certainly not anything like what she felt in Mr. Straker's arms. And she couldn't help but want more of it now that she'd had a taste.

Was it so wrong of her to want more?

He looked up just then, as though he felt her eyes on him. And it was as though he could see the question in her mind written on her face. His blue eyes darkened momentarily in answer. Then he took a breath . . . and became carefully bland. "Good afternoon, Lady Oatridge," he said cordially.

She had to un-grit her teeth and force herself to smile as she came into the room. She knew as surely as if he had told her that he used her name and title to keep her at a proper distance, reminding himself continually of the difference in their respective places in society. But that was just ridiculous. He was a great leader, a king in his own world. She was the one who was daring to even think he would stoop to her level. And she would surely drive herself mad trying to make him see the truth of that!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Straker. It is a lovely day, and you have worked hard enough to deserve a respite. Agrippa is at your disposal, if you would like a ride."

His eyes lit up. "That is generous of you, my Lady. But I was making some headway here and really think I should keep at it a while longer."

"How much longer, sir? Until it is nearly dark and you must return to the inn? Come! The accounts will still be there tomorrow. But the sunshine may not. Go enjoy it while you can."

He grinned, making her heart leap. "If you insist, dear Lady, then I must certainly acquiesce. Thank you."

She smiled archly at him. "Oh, but I have an ulterior motive, sir."

"Indeed?" he asked as he closed the book, wondering what she would say next.

"Of course. You have a plan to concoct."

He gave her a nod, his lips twitching. "Indeed, I do, my Lady. I shall work hard to justify your faith in my superior mental abilities. It wouldn't do to let you think I was just an ordinary man, now would it?"

Her smile turned knowing. "Now, Mr. Straker. If I thought that, I should be a fool indeed."

She surprised a laugh out of him, and it took all his will not to grab her and kiss that teasing smile. He left for the stables before he suited his thoughts to action -- and made life even more difficult for himself.

***

The day was truly lovely, with blue skies and warm breezes. Straker grinned as he galloped across the grass on Agrippa's strong back, reveling in the unexpected freedom. He headed for the hill where he'd once sat with Lady Oatridge, and was glad for the shade once he reached it. He picked an apple off a nearby tree and fed it to the horse as a way of thanking him for the splendid ride.

But as he sat under a tree to 'concoct his plan,' his smile dimmed. He missed home. It felt almost foolish to even think that way when he had so much here. He was alive, damn it, when all the odds said he should be dead. He might not be in his own century, but at least he was in familiar territory, making it possible for him to _pretend_ to fit in with his surroundings. Things could have been so much worse.

He wondered how Alec was doing. If he was adjusting to having Jake there instead of him. Straker had no worries about Jake taking care of Alec. He'd see to him, sure enough. But would Alec let him help him settle? That was the question.

Straker missed him so much. He'd been his right arm for more years than he could remember. Always there; always reliable. Always handling him; giving support when it was needed, or joking him out of some depression or worry. He could see Alec now as if he were with him on the hill, laughing at him for missing his friend when he had a willing woman he could have instead. Teasing him to go and get the girl – and damn the consequences!

The commander almost smiled, seeing him in his mind wearing that rakish grin as he said it. He sighed. But Alec had always been one of the gung-ho boys. Ready for action without thought – and without regret. And his buddy Straker? That nerd? He'd always been the one to think first. Twice. Sometimes several times before he did anything. Trying to weigh the odds. Find the best way to handle any situation.

"But there isn't any best way out of this one, Alec," he said softly. "I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't." He gave a heavy sigh. "And she deserves so much better than that." Than a man who couldn't promise her forever. Hell, who couldn't even promise her tomorrow, because who knew what would happen? And if he had the chance to go back home, he had to take it.

Didn't he?

***

"Afternoon, Commander."

"Major. What's the status?"

Major Connor said, "He's been quiet, sir. Stopped pounding on the door just after midnight. Didn't speak to any of the guards when he was fed today."

"Docile?" Jake asked, rather surprised.

"I wouldn't say docile _exactly_, sir," said the major. "He's still snarly."

"Ah! That's more of what I was expecting. Very well, Major. Let's have a look."

"Sir," Connor said, unable to keep the warning from his lips. "He's not going to be happy to see you."

Jake gave him a soft smile and patted his arm. "I know, Major. And I'm counting on you to protect me."

Major Connor nodded and opened the detention room door.

When Foster saw who had entered the room, he surged off the low cot and stood with bunched fists, anger coming off him in waves. "You son-of-a-bitch! How dare you do this to me! Who in the hell do you think you are, anyway?"

Jake merely lifted a brow at his tirade. "Well," he said after looking the colonel up and down dismissively. "It seems we haven't yet learned our little lesson, have we?" He turned to the door, signaling to the major to open it once more.

Paul was stunned. That was _it?_ That's all the bastard had to say? After locking him up and treating him like a damned criminal? What the _hell? _"Listen, Davenport . . . !"

Jake gave him a polite smile. "Perhaps we'll talk again, Colonel. Tomorrow." And he left the room, the major on his heels.

Tomorrow? But the memorial was tomorrow. Paul glared at the closed door of the detention room. He wouldn't _dare!_

__Would he?

　  
**Chapter 5**

****In the morning, Joseph was there for him before he'd even finished dressing. He quickly donned his new jacket, fresh from the tailor's, and headed downstairs to the taproom where the boy waited.

"Good morning, Joseph," he said as he entered.

"Sir!" Joseph said, tipping his hat to him. "Milady requests your help up at the manor right away."

"Then let's go," he said calmly, aware of the interested ears of the innkeeper and the tapster standing nearby.

Straker didn't waste time trying to glean information from the boy on the way, but galloped quickly up the hill toward the manor, leaving Joseph to follow as best he could on the nag.

He found Matthew in the side yard, hooking up a workhorse to the wagon. He swung down from Agrippa, saying, "What is it, Matthew? What's happened?"

"Bodies on the hill, sir. We heared first thing this morning. Ole Meecham over the way found 'em, and his dog set up a-howling something fierce. Milady says to send you on up once you get here. I'll be a bit afore I'll be ready to follow."

"She's already there? Damn it, Matthew! Why couldn't she wait?"

Matthew shrugged. "Happen she knows what she's doing."

Straker wanted nothing more than to immediately race after her. Damned woman! Couldn't she see that he was here to help her? She didn't need to handle everything on her own any more. But if she was in danger, he wouldn't help matters by running off after her without some way to assist her once he got there.

"Matthew, did Lord Oatridge have any guns?"

The gardener eyed him with approval. "Aye, he did, sir. Several. All locked up nice and tight in his bedroom. Reckon ole Stiffrump will have the key."

Straker correctly interpreted that to mean that the butler had the key. "Right. Go on up to meet with her when you're ready. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, but he spoke to the air, because Straker had already run into the house through the side door.

The butler appeared startled at his entrance, but Straker didn't give him a chance to regain his habitual stiffness toward him. Instead he spoke first. "Dorset, your mistress is in danger and needs our help. Do you have the key to Lord Oatridge's gun cabinet?"

"Why, yes, sir," the butler said, turning white. "Right this way." He headed up the main staircase, drawing a ring of keys out of his pocket as he went. "But, sir! Surely there's no danger during the day?"

Straker said grimly, "I think you all take far too much for granted where the devils are concerned, Dorset. They're not your typical demons, terrified of sunlight. I've seen them attack by day many times."

"Is that so, sir?" Dorset seemed stunned at this news, and Straker had to take his arm to hurry him toward the master's bedroom. "Oh, my! Oh, dear!"

Once there, Dorset gathered his scattered wits and opened the gun cabinet with one of the keys on his ring. Straker checked the two rifles, but decided they would be too difficult for him to carry and fire while on horseback or while running on foot.

"Are there any handguns, Dorset?"

"Yes, sir." The butler pulled open a drawer in the cabinet, exposing a beautifully carved flintlock.

Straker picked it up. Its barrel was rather long, but it was definitely easier to wield than a rifle would have been. Straker half-cocked the gun. "Gunpowder?"

"Right here, sir," said Dorset, awed by his casual expertise with the deadly weapons.

Straker poured gunpowder into the barrel, then chased it with the wrapped ball. Turning the gun, he added some powder to the pan and snapped the frizzen in place.

Dorset offered him the bag of powder, but he shook his head. He knew he only had a one shot chance against the aliens' machine guns. "Thank you, Dorset," he said as he headed out of the room.

The butler did not immediately follow, but sat down on a chair to mop his brow. Such doings were not at all what he'd been trained for.

***

"I wish I could have talked Alec into giving the speech."

Keith grinned at his boss. Davenport didn't look at all happy to be given the honor of delivering the eulogy at this morning's memorial service. "Trust me, Jake. It's for the best. Col. Freeman would just burst into tears and have everybody crying. Commander Straker wouldn't want that."

Jake sighed, swallowing a bite of his second cinnamon roll. "You're right. Damn it. I just wish it wasn't me."

"You could always ask Col. Foster to do it," teased the lieutenant.

Davenport grunted. "Not likely."

Keith frowned at his tone. "He will be there today, won't he?"

Jake gave him a bland stare, then took another bite of his roll.

"Jake! I mean, Commander. You can't just . . . !"

"Can't what, Lieutenant?" the commander said, his voice suddenly hard as stone. "Leave him where he can't cause any trouble? Why not?"

Ford ran a hand through his hair. He tended to forget that his friend wasn't really the easy-going guy most people thought. That underneath that laid-back exterior hid a heart of steel. Jake Davenport didn't suffer fools gladly. In fact, he had no tolerance at all for them. And if Col. Foster had been stupid enough to give the new commander any reason to consider him a fool, then heaven help him!

It was odd for Keith to realize that the commander he had spent the past fifteen years alternately loving and fearing had actually been more tolerant of others' failings than their present commanding officer, even though that man was his friend. Jake had always maintained that he was an easy fellow to live with, simply because he didn't allow idiots anywhere in his vicinity. It just made things a lot more mellow that way, was what he would say with a cocky grin. And he liked his life mellow.

"He'll be mad as fire if you make him miss it," Ford said.

The commander's shrug was indifferent, but his dark eyes were heated. "I gave him a chance, Keith. And I don't often do that. One chance to show me that it was grief that sent him running off from his post, disobeying a direct order to stay where he was needed. Grief – and not his own arrogance." He shook his head, taking a sip of his tea to calm himself down again.

"Well, he showed me, alright."

The very grimness of his tone made Keith realize there would be no swaying him. He swallowed and asked, "What will happen to him? After?"

Jake met his worried eyes . . . and smiled crookedly. "I don't know. I guess that's up to him, isn't it? But I was thinking maybe the Cape Horn station. That's far enough away for him to be out of my hair – don't you think?"

***

He raced up the hill on Agrippa's back, Matthew following behind him in the wagon. He hadn't taken as long as he'd thought he would to get Dorset to help him, and he could only hope now that he reached her before some calamity struck.

But his heart was in his throat, and he was filled with a dreadful certainty that she should not have gone alone to handle the situation. Not this time.

He left the horse on the path, swinging out of the saddle and running toward the pond as fast as he could. When he reached the clearing, he saw that Lady Oatridge was there – and she was down. An alien stood over her, bending down toward her. And the second alien turned at Straker's approach from where he'd been observing, his gun at the ready.

Straker had a split second to decide who got the bullet, then he acted – firing the flintlock on the run into the faceplate of the armed alien, then scooping up the machine gun from his dying hand and aiming it at the alien who was with his employer. Even as the gun spurted out bullets, he saw that the alien was already falling away from Lady Oatridge.

It didn't make sense to him, until he'd lowered the gun and come closer. Then he could clearly see the ornate dagger that stuck out of the alien's bullet-ridden chest. He looked in surprise at the lady . . . and found her smiling at him from where she lay on the forest floor.

"I knew you'd come," she told him, as calmly as though he'd been late for an appointment.

"My dear woman . . . !" he began, but as her smile spread, he abandoned his autocratic tone and knelt at her side, taking her hand in his. "Are you alright?"

"Did I kill him?" she asked, turning to where the alien had collapsed nearby.

"I think we both did," he assured her. "Were you hit?"

"No," she said. "Only winded. He came out onto the path suddenly, causing Maximus to rear and throw me. When I came to, he was dragging me here. Are we . . . ?" She looked around. "Yes, I thought so. We're at the pond."

"Can you get to your feet?" he asked her.

"Certainly," she said. But as he went to assist her, she gave a sharp gasp and quickly laid still, going pale. "Mr. Straker, I think I have injured myself."

He had to grin at her surprised tone. It may have been inappropriate for him to find anything humorous in this situation, but reaction was setting in, and he simply couldn't help being immensely relieved that she wasn't dead or bleeding from every pore. "Please allow me to check, my Lady. I will endeavor to be gentle."

She met his eyes, realizing that whatever he meant to do might be painful. "Very well, sir. I trust you."

Indeed, his hands were very gentle as they moved down her torso, pausing only when she involuntarily gasped in pain. "Here, I think," he said calmly. "Well, my dear Lady. The good news is that all you have done is to break or crack a rib, probably when you fell from your horse."

"That's good news?"

His lips twitched at her sharp tone. "It is when you consider that it could have been very much worse."

She thought suddenly how it must have seemed to him when he came into the clearing, with her on the ground surrounded by devils. So she said playfully, "That's all very well and good, sir. But how do you plan to get me away from this place? I do not think I will be able to walk."

He leaned closer, nearly making her gasp again, although not in pain. "I fear I must ask you an indelicate question, madam."

"What?" she said somewhat breathlessly.

"Are you wearing a corset?"

She met his eyes in shock, then began to chuckle – until she found it too painful to do so and subsided. "Yes, sir. You must have felt it through my dress when you checked me."

"Madam," he said, his tone leading toward exasperation. "You have on so many layers, it was quite impossible to tell."

"Tell me something, Mr. Straker."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Why do you wish to know whether I am wearing a corset?"

He sighed, brought back to the immediacy of the situation by her question. She did have a way of leading him off-topic, he'd noticed. "Because it may make it easier to transport you home if you are already somewhat strapped together."

She grinned at him. "You are a resourceful man, sir."

He heard the sounds of someone coming, and looking over, spotted Matthew emerging from the underbrush across the way. "Matthew!" he called, then turned back to his employer. "This next little while will not be pleasant, madam. Matthew has the wagon with him, but it will be necessary to first carry you to it. Do you understand?"

She took a breath, then nodded for him to continue.

"I will try not to jostle you too much," he said, sliding his hands beneath her and slowly lifting her into his arms.

She did manage to hold back a gasp, knowing that he would feel her pain as keenly as she did, and not wanting to make his task any harder for him than necessary. But she was rewarded for her fortitude when he encouraged her to put her arms around him to hold on. She looked into that lean face so close to hers as he carried her from the clearing, and her heart swelled within her bosom. Bodily pain notwithstanding, she knew she would cherish this moment in her dreams for years to come.

***

There was nothing they could do to make the wagon a comfortable vehicle for an injured person to ride in. But Straker finally decided to damn the proprieties and held her on his lap in the back of the wagon all the way to the manor.

After her first blush, she weathered the journey courageously, enthusiastically giving him instructions to relay to Matthew for the gathering up of the three dead bodies that had been left near the path by the devils, as well as the disposal of the aliens themselves.

Straker sat, being rocked back and forth by the motion of the wagon on the dirt track, his arms firmly around her, and his cheek against the top of her head, smiling as he listened to her voice. He didn't think he had ever come out of an encounter with the aliens feeling lighthearted – before today. She was injured. Yes, she was injured. But at least she was alive! And what an intrepid woman she had proved to be! He had not even realized that she might be armed. Every time he thought of her ornate little dagger sticking out of that damned alien's chest, he wanted to chuckle.

Long before they reached the manor, they hit a bumpy patch of road, and she became silent, trying her best not to cry out. But one bump was far worse than the rest, and she gave one short gasp before losing consciousness. The commander thought it was for the best. Perhaps they would even manage to get her into the house and up to her room before she came back around. He turned his head slightly and kissed her red curls. "Brave soldier," he whispered softly into her hair. "You're almost home now."

***

"I've found something."

Jake looked up from Col. Grey's latest report on the alien ship and focused on Col. Lake as she breezed into his office and came up to his desk. She was glowing with success, and his heart leapt. Although whether that was because she might actually have found out something important or because she was indescribably beautiful at this moment, even he couldn't have said.

"What is it, Virginia?" he asked, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She was carrying a large tome, and as she sat, she opened it to a certain page and set it carefully on his desk facing him. "This."

He gazed at the oversized page, which displayed a print of a painting. It was an oil portrait, done possibly during the Georgian era judging by the style of clothing. And the man looked amazingly like Commander Straker.

"Good grief!" he whispered. "Where did you get this?"

She laughed, pleased that she had surprised him. "In the rare book section of the British Library. It's a folio of Reynolds' portraits, although it admittedly doesn't include even half of them. He did well over three thousand portraits in his lifetime, and this book only contains about a hundred and fifty prints. But this painting is of the commander."

Jake looked closer at the portrait. "It certainly resembles him to a great degree," he said. "What is the title of the portrait?"

"The folio gives it no formal title, although it may have had one when it was originally done. The compiler of this book merely calls it 'A Man of Letters,' since he is holding a sheaf of papers in the painting."

"Did the commander have ancestors that came from England?"

"What?" She sat back in shock. "You can't possibly doubt that it's him!"

He sighed. "I'm just trying to make sure we don't go running off after one of his ancestors by mistake."

"You don't understand," she said, waving his hesitation away and leaning closer to the desk. "I happen to know this is the commander – _himself!_"

"Okay," Jake said, folding his hands on the desktop. "How do you know?"

"Because he was wearing this outfit when he disappeared."

"_What?_"

Her eyes glinted with humor. "You mean no one told you that he was in full costume for a movie when he left? Yes, he was. And I can get you a shot from the dailies if you want to compare it to what he's got on in this painting. But I'm telling you now – it's the same. The same coat, the same lace jabot, even the same black satin riband tying his hair back."

"Wait a minute. His hair was long? When did that happen?"

She explained, "It was lengthened for the movie. They're hair extensions. I'm guessing they were a real pain to work with, but you can't deny the result was incredible."

"Is there a date on this painting?" he asked, changing the subject. What was it about women and long hair?

"Just a circa date, around the 1780's. It had to be before 1789, because that's when Reynolds lost sight in one eye and retired."

"Location?"

She shook her head. "None is mentioned. But the painting gives us a place to start. Commander, he lived through being sent through time. And he ended up in England sometime during the 1780's. We know now where to look for him."

Jake glanced back at the portrait. "And we know he became a man of letters. So perhaps he wrote a book, as well. I'm going to want a copy of that print for our file. And I'll have Keith give Peter a copy for his file at the memorial today. This find narrows our search considerably. Excellent work, Virginia."

Ginny smiled happily. "Thank you, sir."

***

When she woke, it was far into the night, and she was in her bed. As her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, Mr. Straker came to the bed from where he'd been seated in an armchair. He sat carefully next to her and said quietly, "How are you feeling?"

She wasn't certain that she wasn't still dreaming, so she lifted a hand to his face. When she felt his stubble, she blinked and smiled. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" she said ruefully.

He looked startled for a moment, then he smiled softly. "No. You're quite awake. Are you in pain?"

She thought about it, trying to ascertain how she felt without actually moving. "I am rather stiff; but other than that, I feel fine."

"Good. The stiffness is from the dressing around your ribs. It had to be snug in order to keep your ribs in place, so they'll heal properly."

"I feel as though I am still in my corset."

He smiled. "Your corset came in very handy today, but I'm afraid you won't be able to wear it again for a while. Your ribs need to mend."

"Is Dr. Woodrow still here?"

Straker's brow darkened at the mention of the doctor, but he kept his voice quiet when he said, "No. He has gone."

She was able to read between the lines of that terse statement, however, and asked, "Was he not helpful, Mr. Straker?"

"He's an utter fool, Lady Oatridge, if you want my opinion!" he said quietly, but fiercely. "He wanted to use leeches on you!"

She hid a grin. "Is that not a common practice in the future, sir?"

He shuddered involuntarily. "No, madam. It is not! Fortunately, Mrs. Meddows came to my assistance, and between us we were able to wrap your rib cage. I hope you'll pardon the familiarity, my Lady. But it was necessary to ensure that you heal correctly."

Her color was rather heightened by the thought of him tending to her, but she could not doubt that he had done it with only her health in mind. She knew him well enough to be certain of his nobility -- not to mention his restraint. "It seems I have to thank you for many things, sir. Not the least of which is for saving my life today."

"You weren't doing so badly on your own, my Lady," he said with a smile that went straight to her heart.

"Nonetheless, I am in your debt," she said, trying to quiet her heart, which seemed to want to pound rather loudly.

He leaned closer, making it resound in her ears. "You can pay that debt by telling me one thing."

"What is that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Your first name."

Her eyes met his . . . and her heart stopped altogether at the expression she found there. She had for so long dreamt of such a look from him that she could hardly believe she was actually seeing it. "Mr. Straker!" she gasped.

"Come, my Lady," he coaxed, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "Please tell me!"

"Louise," she said shakily.

His smile was tender. "Louise," he said softly. And kissed her. He kept – or tried to at any rate – a firm grip on himself, not wanting to jar her ribs. But her arms came up and drew him closer, and he sank into the passion that she so easily called forth from inside him.

When he pulled back to breathe, her dark green eyes were slumbrous, and it took all his strength not to climb into bed with her there and then. "I love you, Louise," he whispered against her mouth.

She gazed at him in wonder, one small hand touching his face. "Oh, I _must _be dreaming!" she said softly.

He grinned, adoring her. "I realized tonight as I watched you sleep that I could have lost you today. And I couldn't bear it that I'd never told you how I felt about you."

"I knew, even without the words," she said huskily.

But he shook his head. "Sometimes the words are necessary."

Her gaze dropped, and her hands plucked at the quilt covering her. "I know you can't stay . . ." she began, but he put a finger to her lips to stop her.

"None of that matters now," he said. "For as long as I'm here, I am yours. I promise you. Do you want me?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Oh, yes!" And drew him down for another kiss.

When she gave a soft moan, he released her and sat back, breathing hard. But she didn't look as though she had disturbed her ribs. She looked . . . like a vision from his most secret fantasy.

"Come back here," she said, but he held her off.

"Louise," he said quietly. "We cannot – "

"Oh, don't be proper now, Mr. Straker – I beg of you!"

"My dear woman," he said with a chuckle. "You don't know the meaning of the word!"

She grinned. "Perhaps not, sir. But you seem intent on giving me lessons. Please kiss me again. Your kisses make me feel as though I am in a lightning storm."

"Oh, God! You undo me!" he murmured, pressing hot kisses into the palm of her hand. "But indeed, we must stop. You are injured, and I will not have you hurting yourself further by being careless. It's imperative that you lay still if you wish to get better. Let me get your maid for you."

"Don't go!" she said.

"I won't," he assured her. "She's right here." And as he went to where her maid sat in a chair by the fire, Louise felt a hot blush rise into her cheeks. She had not even noticed that they were not alone. Although she should have realized that he would never have offended the proprieties by being unattended in her bedroom. She supposed that it had all felt so much like a dream that she had let herself be fooled into thinking it was.

It reassured her somewhat when he had to shake the maid awake. At least her wanton display had not been witnessed by a servant. Maggie gave a great yawn, and slowly seemed to grasp what he was telling her. She got up from her chair and came over to the bed.

"I'll fetch you a bit of broth, milady, now that you're awake."

"Thank you, Maggie," Louise said.

After the maid left the room, he came back to the bed. But he did not sit down again. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"When I see you tomorrow, you will pretend none of this even happened."

His smile was wry. "I am not that good an actor, dear Lady."

Her eyes searched his face for a long moment, but all she said was, "You won't try to return to the inn tonight?"

He thought they were fairly safe now that they'd killed the aliens, but he didn't argue with her. "Mrs. Meddows made up a room for me down the hall. Promise me that you'll sleep after you've eaten."

"I won't," she assured him. "I shall lay awake all night wishing you were here with me still."

He kissed her hand once more, then laid it back on the quilt. "And I shall lay awake wishing the same thing, so that we shall both be exhausted in the morning."

The notion didn't seem to bother him in the least, and she couldn't keep from grinning at him. "I do love you, Mr. Straker."

His smile widened slowly until it filled his face. "Good night, Lady Oatridge."

"Good night, Mr. Straker."

But as he reached the door, she thought of something and said, "Wait! You never told me your first name."

"I know," he said blandly. "I much prefer the way you call me 'Mr. Straker.'" He heard her sputter as he closed the door behind him, and grinned to himself as he went to his room.

***

Contrary to his expectations, she was bright-eyed and alert when he visited her room late in the morning. She was propped up against the pillows and reading a letter when he entered, but looked over with a smile of welcome.

"Good morning, Mr. Straker," she said.

"Good morning, Lady Oatridge."

"Did you sleep well, sir?" she asked him playfully.

His lips twitched, but he nodded. "Yes, thank you, my Lady. And yourself?"

She glanced at Mrs. Meddows, who was gathering the dishes from her breakfast. "Indeed, sir," she said demurely. "I had the most amazing dream!"

He frowned at her, but it did not seem to even dent her audacity. She merely met his frown with a humorous look. "I am surprised you did not have a nightmare after your adventure yesterday."

She acknowledged that statement with a grin. "Won't you be seated, sir? I'm afraid we shall have to conduct our work here today, but perhaps tomorrow my jailor will allow me to return downstairs."

The housekeeper looked up at that and put her hands on her ample hips. "Now, milady! None of your pertness! You'll stay in that bed until you're able to get around without any pain. You shouldn't even be working today instead of resting, and you know it!"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Meddows! You know I could never just lay here doing nothing! I would go mad!"

"Well," the housekeeper said, relenting. "I'm certain Mr. Straker will make you stop when you get tired."

The housekeeper shot such an earnest look at him that he said, "Most assuredly, Mrs. Meddows. You may trust me to see to it that Lady Oatridge does not overtax herself."

"Thank you, sir." Mrs. Meddows left the room after one swift glance around to be certain all was in order.

Once she was gone, Louise patted the edge of her bed invitingly. But Straker opted for the armchair he had spent so much time in yesterday while watching over her. He did, however, bring it closer to the bed.

She pouted at him adorably. "You see? It is as though last night never occurred."

"Would you have preferred me to sweep you into my arms for a passionate kiss?"

She grinned at his exasperated tone. "Indeed, sir! Very much!"

He chuckled in spite of himself. "You're incorrigible, madam!"

At that, she laughed – and had to stop suddenly as it caused a stitch in her side. "Oh, sir!" she said rather breathlessly. "How you sounded like my father just then!"

"I take it that he had no better luck in keeping you in line?"

She smiled. "Well – he tried."

His blue eyes twinkled. "I adore you, you know."

She extended a hand to him, and he took it in his, kissing it tenderly before releasing it.

"I suppose you think we should discuss yesterday's doings rather than last night's?" she asked him archly.

"I'm certain," he said softly. "That we can find time for both."

She blushed at the look in his eyes. It relieved her greatly to know that he finally accepted the passionate connection between them. He might still be determined to protect her reputation at all costs, but at least he no longer pretended that he had no tender feelings for her. It had been maddening for her to be held at arm's length.

"Thank you, sir."

His smile was tender. "Shall I let you finish with your correspondence first?"

She picked up the letter from where it had dropped onto the quilt. "Oh, Mr. Straker! That reminds me! I have had a splendid notion. My friend Nadine has just had her husband's portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds himself, and she has written to me extolling how well he got his likeness. And it made me think about your friend Alec."

"Alec?" he asked in confusion. "I'm afraid I'm not following you. What does Alec have to do with your friend?"

"You told me that he will think you are dead; that you had no way to tell him that you were still alive. But if we had your portrait done, and by a famous artist, it is possible that he may see it someday – and know that you did not die. Of course, that is assuming that you do not make it back to tell him yourself."

"That is a wonderful idea, Louise! Alec would never automatically assume I'm dead, so it's quite possible after a time that he'll consider the possibility that I went into the past. And if he doesn't think of it, Col. Lake will. Yes. That's a marvelous idea. What does Reynolds charge for a portrait these days? Will I be able to afford him?"

"It is no matter," she said with a wave of her hand. "Since the portrait is for me, I shall pay for it."

"For you, my Lady?" he asked softly.

She would not meet his eyes, but said in an undertone, "Oh, give me this at least, sir! So that even though I may not keep you, I may keep a remembrance of you."

She moved him unbearably at times. He laid a hand over hers on the quilt for a moment, then quietly withdrew it. "I would consider it an honor to have my portrait done, Lady Oatridge."

　  
**Epilogue**

****The broadcast of Straker's HQ memorial service on Thursday was shown on monitors and viewscreens throughout every facility in the organization several times over the next several days. A copy of the broadcast was even put onto the database, so that those who wished could view it again at their leisure. The broadcast copy included not just the video of the speeches that had been made by key personnel, but the photos of the commander throughout his life and long career in the military that had been displayed throughout the auditorium during the ceremony. One particular photo was remarked on and duplicated more than any of the others. It was an old black &amp; white shot of Straker as a young boy, proudly holding a new plastic rocket -- Dr. Zarkov's rocketship from _Flash Gordon_.

On Friday evening, the studio hosted an enormous memorial service of their own, complete with guest speakers culled from among his many producer acquaintances and female leads who'd played opposite him. For this occasion, the main ballroom featured large photos of Straker from all of his many films, including the final unfinished one that had been set in the Georgian era. The press was invited, as well as so many celebrities and VIPs that security was kept hopping to keep them all corralled in the ballroom and away from sensitive areas in the building.

But for those who had the privilege of attending both functions, there was an unspoken consensus that the HQ memorial had been the best. But then, the staff at HQ had known him best.

Jake managed not to cry while delivering his eulogy at the HQ memorial, but it was a toss-up once or twice whether he would disgrace himself by choking up. He ended his speech by saying, "Commander Straker never asked for the job of being in charge of SHADO. He told me once that only a fool would have been stupid enough to ask for it. But when it was thrust into his lap, he didn't hesitate to do everything in his power to make it a success. For himself? Hell, no! For his own gain or glory? Yeah, right! What glory was there in working twenty hour days for fifteen years? What gain was there in never once taking a vacation in all that time?

"He did it for us! He did it for _Earth! _And the best we can do to honor him is to carry on. Not for ourselves. Hell, not even for him! _But for Earth! _That would make him proud. That might even make him smile. And who knows? It might even make him say when we run into him in the hereafter, "Well done, soldier. Good job."  



End file.
